The Breaking Point
by Drass'ir Wyrda
Summary: Blake gets angry. Different than usual, so feedback is appreciated.


**Author's Note: This is a little different from usual, as hinted at in the notes of my last story: **_**I hate IKEA. **_**Nevertheless, I encourage all of you to read to the end and just bear with me for now. Please leave a review with your opinions, I happily read them all, so tell me how you think I did. And try to not be too terrified of Blake...**

Words hurt. I know this more than most. Throughout my life I have experienced a lot of hardships. I have had my closest friends turn on me, people I thought I knew reveal themselves to be monsters. My life has never been especially easy, some might say it's been quite difficult. Some people don't even know who I am, but no matter what all these people may think, there is one thing that I am now certain of. Up until now, I have been resisting, warding myself against the feelings inside me. But now? Now is different. Now is when I open my eyes; open my eyes to reality. Not some fairy tale, nor a silly pipe dream to be told to young children around a warm fire. Life is not always so caring- so forgiving. I have opened my eyes to the harshness and cruelty that plagues this Earth. I have seen true human nature at it's core. The epitome of humanity, a summation of the species, all displayed to me over the course of my entire life. I had just been too ignorant to see it. Perhaps I had not wanted to see it, not wanted to see them for what they truly were, are, and always will be. But now my world is different. It is foreign, unknown and harsh. It is all these things and more, but maybe most of all, _it is cold._

My eyes set in a determined stare, my brows furrowed, I steadily walked the streets of Vale City. Passer-bys were pushed aside as I went- I had no time for them. My hands were stiff as my fingers curled into tight fists. My breath became mist before my very eyes. The cold was unforgiving as I walked the road before me. None of that mattered, though. Not a single other variable mattered, aside from one thing. Above all, I could not spare to lose my target.

Some may consider me collected. I have been called objective and impartial on many occasions. Under normal circumstances those statements may have been correct, but not then. That day was different: That day _I _was different. My jaw was set into a hard line as I followed merely meters behind him. He ducked into an alley, and I followed without hesitation. I saw him hurrying out the other end, huffing into his cupped palms in an attempt to retain what little warmth his hands had left. He left the passageway seconds before I did. I had not yet been spotted, and that was invaluable. I could not be seen by him, it was as vital as me not losing track of him. I pushed down another wave of seething, nigh uncontrollable anger as I once more pushed my way through the crowds of ongoers. My long-chapped lips cracked into a thin smile as he once again made his way into an alley. The difference being, of course, that this one was deserted, and much, _much _more secluded. We would not be disturbed there.

I followed in an instant, quickening my pace, now uncaring if I was spotted or not. The time for subtlety was now over. I briefly considered drawing Gambol Shroud, but decided against it. The weapon would not be needed if everything went according to plan. The man I was stalking stopped suddenly, seemingly aware of my presence. I didn't care, and continued to pursue him down the alley, further increasing my pace. I was almost upon him, and still he stood there with his head down, legs spread apart. Just as I was upon him, he whipped around, his long coat flowing in a circular motion around his person. He lashed out with his right arm, which I promptly caught in my hand, glancing down at the extremity and, more importantly, what it held.

'_A knife, huh? Clearly he doesn't realize who it is._' It mattered little, however, as I made use of my newfound control over the situation, bending back effortlessly on the man's wrist, ushering forth a cry of pain as his wrist was stretched unnaturally. He slowly sunk to the ground as I advanced further, stopping inches in front of him.

"What do you want?" His voice was strained from the pain no doubt shooting down his arm. I bent down and hissed into his ear.

"I just want to say hello." I grabbed his left arm as he weakly attempted to catch me unawares. "Well now… Cardin Winchester hitting a girl, now where have I heard that before?" I pulled back on one of his long fingers, eliciting a satisfying _crack_ as well as a grunt of agony from it's owner.

"Who are you?"

"Oh, nobody. I'm in some of your classes, actually. My name is Blake, nice to meet you." I bent another finger, causing another disgruntled scream from his throat as his middle finger was left crooked and swollen. He bellowed in agony.

"What the hell do you want from me, you crazy bitch?!" I laughed at that. I regret to say it, but at the time I was enjoying this, just a bit.

"Like I said, I just want to say 'hello'. Also, I wanted to say a few things on behalf of Velvet. You might know of her." He actually smiled at this, causing a splash of light to fall on his shadowed face as he shifted.

"Oh, I know her. So, you're her way of saying 'thank you'? That's-" He suddenly yelped as I pulled back further on a third finger. If he kept going on like this, I'd run out of fingers before I could finish. I once again whispered menacingly.

"You do _not _say _thank you_ for what _you did._" I was practically seething at this point. "_You do not say thank you to the man who beat you._" I accentuated the words with an angered kick to the chest, sending him sprawling to the dirty asphalt as I struggled to reign in my temper. He groaned in pain. "It hurts, doesn't it? It hurts to be hit. To be kicked onto the ground." I stepped on his left leg, causing another wail of protest. "You didn't seem to realize this when you mercilessly _beat _a person as kind as Velvet, just for being a faunus, so I think I'll teach you a lesson on it: on pain, I mean." I pressed down further on his leg. "I'm going to make you feel what Velvet felt, so that you'll never try and do _that _again. I hope you're ready Cardin. I hope you're ready just like Velvet was when you did this to her. The main difference being, obviously…" My eyes narrowed at his curled up form. "You actually _deserve _this." I lifted my leg to a kicking position, preparing to send it flying into his lower abdomen.

"Stop it, Blake!" I paused, casting a glance over my shoulder but not bothering to lower my leg. There, standing silhouetted against the sun filtering in from the entrance to the alleyway, was my teammate Yang.

"Stay out of this, Yang! This doesn't concern you." I turned my attention back to Cardin's weakened form, hearing rapid footsteps moments later. "I'm sorry, Yang, but he needs this." I closed my eyes and released my leg, sending a kick aimed straight for his stomach.

Well, that was the plan, at least. The kick went a tiny bit high as I was suddenly tackled to the ground, my shoulder slamming into the ground and my head knocking into the pavement painfully milliseconds later. I was somewhat dazed after my landing, and Yang used this opportunity to roll over so her body was above mine, her arms pinning mine to the ground. I struggled to no avail against her toned arms, strengthened from years of brawling with drunkards and Grimm.

"You can't do this Blake! Even if he does deserve it; Even if he _did _beat Velvet, you still can't mindlessly beat him to a pulp in an alley!" Her eyes bore into mine desperately.

"Like hell I can't! Have you even _seen _Velvet? She's been in critical condition for _three days _now! She's in there suffering while _that _scumbag-" I snapped my head in the direction of Cardin, who was still laying curled up on the ground, nursing his hand and stomach. "is running around totally fine! Where's the justice in that, Yang?" My voice cracked, and I continued on quietly. "I ask you: What about that is even remotely fair?" Yang sighed and closed her eyes above me, her shining golden locks swaying lazily around her face.

"Nothing, Blake. Nothing about that is fair." She rushed to continued as she saw me begin to formulate a response. "It might not be fair, Blake, but that's just how the world is. It isn't always fair."

"That's what we're for, Yang." I looked away from her eyes, suddenly unable to meet them as I unsteadily resumed talking. "We're becoming Huntresses so we can _make _the world fair, so we can stop… stop _that _from happening!" I looked despairingly at Yang, who only sighed once again.

"I know Blake, I know. But this isn't the way to go about it." She suddenly rose from atop me, freeing my arms and allowing me to get back on my feet. I didn't though. I couldn't. I simply didn't have the energy, _the drive, _to get up from where I lay. And so I didn't. I tiredly pushed myself up against a wall and succumbed to my suddenly overpowering emotions. Like a dam bursting, all of my pent up frustration, anger, all of it, suddenly came bursting forth, and I cried. I wept like I hadn't cried in years, which wasn't far from the truth.

Cardin pushed himself off the ground wearily, thankful that Blake had been subdued. He looked over to his savior.

"Uhhh, thanks-"

"Stop. Just go." Her head turned to look at him. "Go and never talk to her, or me again, and _never _mention this to anybody." She glared at him. "Got it?" Cardin fearfully nodded his head affirmatively before bolting off in the other direction.

Yang depressedly walked up to Blake's huddled form. She was shaking with the uncontrollable tremors that shook her body, unable to hide her emotional instability. Yang looked on with sympathetic eyes as she wordlessly sat next to Blake, offering a comforting presence for the young faunus. Blake slowly leant into Yang's shoulder, and she stroked her back calmingly.

They sat like that for a time, neither one willing to speak, until Blake finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Yang." She said with a sniffle. "I don't know what happened. I… I wasn't myself."

"I know, Blake. It's all over now, though. Everything is over now." She took a deep breath and rose from the street, extending a hand to Blake.

"Now C'mon, we need to get back to Beacon." She said softly.

Blake clasped her hand and held it, refusing to let her go for even a second.

**Author's Note: Yeah… a bit odd, wouldn't you agree? Not a very long story, but that wasn't the point of it. This was mainly just me testing out some different ways of writing. Specifically switching point of view mid-story, which is something I've never done before and might have caused some confusion with some people (if so **_**please **_**tell me). Also, I was **_**really **_**curious what Blake would be like when she got pushed too far, and so this is my rendition of that scenario. Standard fluffy-as-marshmallow stories will resume soon, I just wanted to get this out of my system.**


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